Mystique's Mistake
by Kiki Cabou
Summary: Did you ever wonder why Mystique changed her outfit (and overall look) between the first and second seasons of Evo? Because she was shanghaied by the crew of “What Not To Wear,” of course!
1. The Setup

Summary: Did you ever wonder why Mystique changed her outfit (and overall look) between the first and second seasons of Evo?  Because she was shanghaied by the crew of "What Not To Wear," of course!

Note 1:  I am still working on "Princess" and other things for Project: Wagner (the new story will be up soon) but I needed a little break.  And since I think Mystique is a feisty, arresting character, I figured she deserves a tribute of some sort.  So this is it.

Note 2: "What Not To Wear" is a program on an American cable channel called TLC (The Learning Channel).  It's a "make-over" show, where the cast basically grabs people (at the request of their friends) and helps them make over their entire wardrobes, make-up, etc.  The bad side?  The person has to completely change, which most people hate doing, just on principle.  The good side?  The person gets $5,000 to do it.  Cha-CHING!  The hosts that I'm using are the folks from the first season of "What Not To Wear."  They are Stacy London and Wayne Scot Lucas, (who's a kick).  The hairstylist is Nick Arrojo, and the make-up gal is Carmindy.  Just Carmindy.

Rating: PG-13

Category: Humor

Warning: Everybody in this has been exaggerated, for humorous purposes.  I like the Brotherhood --- don't think I don't.  'Kay?

Disclaimer: I claim nothing.  And don't be dissin' da Fuzzy One, or I'll have to hit you with a Wiffle Bat.  Forward, ho!!!

=== MYSTIQUE'S MISTAKE ===

The Brotherhood boys were all sitting around picking their noses when Toad suddenly had an idea.

"Hey!  I got it!  A'right, you know how Mystique's always complainin' 'bout Magneto not takin' her serious?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Lance asked.

"Well personally, ah am uv da opinion dat it's da way she dresses!  We should write to dat show.  That one on TLC --- Blob, whassit called?"

"What Not To Wear."

"Dat's it!"

They wanted to write to "What Not To Wear," but they couldn't find any stationery, or even a pen.  So they called.  And made a deal with the person on the other end of the phone.  If the crew would come out and re-do Mystique, nothing bad would happen to WNTW headquarters --- like, let's say, a sudden earthquake.

"I think we made the lady on da other end cry, yo."

"Who cares?  They're comin' ta fix up Mystique!" Lance yelled.  "Yeah!"

That weekend, the Brotherhood lured Mystique out to the Bayville Bar and Grille, in her usual guise as Principal Darkholme.  They bought her dinner.  They bought her wine.  She was finding all of this quite nice, if a little suspicious, but that was all.  The video camera and flashing lights caught her completely unaware.

"Hi!" said a perky brunette with a wide, New York smile.  "I'm Stacy London."

Mystique was surprised.  She let out a battle cry and drop-kicked Stacy.

Stacy shook it off, peeled herself off the floor, and smiled again.  The slightly chunky, long-haired man next to her introduced himself as Wayne, and shook Mystique's hand, much to her chagrin.  Mystique almost threw him into the nearest table.  Luckily, he let go.

"Anyway, your friends, these guys over here …"  Stacy pointed at the Brotherhood, who all waved like idiots at the wobbly camera, "nominated you to get a make-over on What Not To Wear!"

"You BUFFOONS!" Mystique roared at the Brotherhood.  "How DARE you insult my sense of style!"  They all cringed.

Stacy seemed to be unaffected.  She smiled again.  "I know it's kind of a jolt.  Of course, if you agree to let us make you over, you get a $5,000 shopping spree in New York City to re-make your whole wardrobe."

Mystique stopped raging and blinked at her.  Never mind that this woman was the world's best shape-shifter, who could transform her entire appearance in the blink of an eye.  Never mind that technically, she didn't need to wear clothes, or make-up.

"Fa-Fa-Five thousand dollars?  Pretty things from New York City?  All if I comply with your requests?" she said, a silly little grin coming to her face.

"Yes ma'am," Stacy said.

"Well!  Sign me up!" Mystique replied.  The hell with her abilities.  5,000 bucks just had too much appeal.

The Brotherhood all breathed a sigh of relief as Mystique was whisked away.

~*~X~*~

The first thing the "What Not To Wear" team did was to sit Mystique down and explain that they'd secretly been watching her for two weeks.  A few unexplained things aside (like her turning into other people, or an owl, for example), they felt they had a handle on her.

Mystique watched in horror as she saw the video footage they'd gleaned.  It was Toad, waving at the camera, and then positioning it in her luxurious bedroom, facing her closet.  HER BEDROOM!  HER CLOSET!  That little insect was going to DIE when this was over, she'd make sure of that.  Then, mortified, she saw herself shift from a tired Principal Darkholme to her true, blue, golden eyed self, her red hair in disarray, her white dress with the skulls on the hips slightly askew.  

She glanced at Stacy and Wayne, who looked at her expectantly.  

"Have you got something you want to show us?" Stacy prompted.

Mystique sighed.  Perhaps she was tired of hiding.  Perhaps she was feeling particularly stupid that afternoon.  But whatever the reason, she shifted into her true form.  Stacy and Wayne nodded, completely unperturbed.  Either that, or they were heavily drugged.  It was hard to tell.  They all kept watching the video.  When Mystique turned around from her closet and faced the camera, Wayne couldn't hold it in anymore.  He had to comment --- and not about her blue skin.

"Oh my God, OH, MY, GOD," Wayne said, flapping his hands.  "Honey Darling Sweetie Baby!  You look like you crashed into a Halloween store!  You know, those boys who called us up said you were always complaining that your boss didn't take you seriously.  And I'm looking at this, and I'm like, 'DUH!  HELLO-O!'  This is why!  It just screams, 'Mistake!'  Loudly!"

Stacy giggled.  Mystique folded her arms and "hmphed."  They saw another bit of tape, this time from the bathroom.  Mystique, still blue, was wearing an ugly, frilly, purple bathrobe and staring into the bathroom mirror, holding bobby pins in her mouth, trying to do something with her hair.  It was too long, too thick, and too wavy.  It framed her face all wrong.  She roared in frustration, gave up, and shape-shifted into Darkholme.  

"Don't worry," Stacy said.  "We'll be doing something with this mane thing you have going on," she said, fingering Mystique's hair.  

Mystique growled at her like a panther.  Stacy's eyes went wide and she pulled away.  "Whoo!  Feisty!"

"And one last thing," Wayne said.

Another bit of tape, showing Mystique, getting ready for bed, wearing the world's ugliest granny nightgown.

"Oh!" Mystique shrieked, completely mortified.  "Nobody knows I own that!"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, you WON'T own that after today!" Wayne said, putting an arm around a distinctly unhappy Mystique.  "We're going to bring out the contents of your closet and throw out anything that doesn't work.  Which, in your case, I think is pretty much going to be everything."

Mystique put her face in her hands and moaned.  She wasn't sure whether to go through with this or just murder those four moronic worms under her command.

Want more?  I'm kind of unsure about this, so let me know, folks. :D  Thankies!  Kiki


	2. In the Lair of Wayne and Stacy

First of all, big shout-out review response time!  Why?  Because I can!  Mwa ha ha!

Angel Princess Stephanie: Glad you're classifying this as "original" instead of "drug-induced." :D  Thank you for reading!

emi: no sympathy necessary.  This has a happy ending. :D

Panther Nesmith: I don't think it's legal to "kill off" actual living human beings.  Seriously dude, they might sue me for slander! *looks shifty*  But I'll see what I can do.

kiki5: Aren't shows like this funny?  Especially when the victim, I mean guest, comes out looking "great" and you're like, "What the hell!  That looks TERRIBLE!"  Continue I shall, hun.

Beboots: This is evil, I admit.  But it was too good an idea to pass up.  Anywho, you wanted more, so here it comes. Yee!

Freeverse: Thank you!  More you shall have!

ishandahalf: I appreciate your enthusiasm, Robin.  *salutes*  :D  Thank you for the praise, and I totally agree with you about Wayne.  His hair … oh, my God.  Don't get me started.

SkyDancerHawk: Comin' up. :)

Mayra: Update?  Did somebody say Update?  Well, here you go! :D

Karen: Trading Spaces?  YEAH, BABY!!!!  That show is the bomb!  I like Frank and Vern, and Ty is a ho-ttie!  I will try and read your fic. :)

faeryeyes and John: Thank you both.  Here's more.  John, what are you doing with those matches --- John!  No!  NOOO!

Storm-Pietro and ribbetfrog: You guys rock.  Thanks. :0)

The Radical Edward: Oh.  Yeah.  Well, glad you're enjoying, in spite of that.  I'll make it the reason her eyes now look all catty --- thanks!

THGFC: Hermione rules, first of all.  Sorry about the library thing.  Hope you didn't get in trouble, but glad you liked it.  Here's more!

=== MYSTIQUE'S MISTAKE, PART TWO: IN THE LAIR OF WAYNE AND STACY ===

Wayne and Stacy's first task was to bring out the contents of Mystique's closet (hanging on a rolling clothes rack), a big bag of her shoes, and a red, plastic trashcan.

"Okay, honey," Wayne said, tossing his hair back.  "First things first!  We need you to try on a few of your things in our special 360 Degree Mirror."

He pawed through the rack of clothes and pulled out a ridiculous, blue paisley dress, with an ugly lace collar and a flouncy skirt.  Mystique's cheeks went purple.  She sullenly took the dress from Wayne and walked off-screen.  They put her in the "mirror box," where she could see all around herself.  

She gasped.  "I bought this?"  

"Indeed you did!" came a voice from outside the box.

Stacy opened the door and peeked in.  "Hello!  Well, whaddaya see?"

"My ass is enormous!" Mystique shrieked, in her usual commanding alto.  

Stacy laughed.  "No, it's not!  You have a perfectly normal-sized ass.  Granted it's blue …"  Mystique snarled at her.  "But we can work with that!" she said, with a huge smile, backing off.  "Anyway, the reason you think your bootie's big is because of this nasty skirt.  It hits you in the worst place imaginable, right at your waist, and then it kind of balloons out.  See?  And you have knock-out hips, and great legs, on top of that!  What you have to remember, though, it to PLAY to all this.  Don't work against yourself by putting on too many layers, or covering up too much.  Okay?  Step out."

The next item was a frumpy business suit.  Mystique may have had a nice bedroom, but her clothing budget was pretty tight.  This particular suit hadn't been replaced in years.  She stepped into the mirror.

"Okay.  Big problem --- I can't see where your arms are," Stacy said.  "I saw you slip out of that dress a little bit, and your upper body is phenomenal!  And this thing is so bulky and big on you, that you can't see any definition.  So you need something a little more skin-tight, and you need to be wearing more skin-tight stuff on a regular basis."

"That seems valid," Mystique grumbled.  "The trouble is, I already do."

The last item was Mystique's "uniform" --- her blue spandex body suit with the white dress-ish pullover thing, with the skulls on the hips.  (You know the one.)  Mystique was staring at herself, utterly bereft. She looked ready to cry.

"What were you THINKING?" Wayne asked, looking at her.  "These skulls on your hips?  They make your butt look HUGE, honey.  Whenever you walk, something JIGGLES, and attracts attention where you don't want it!  They have GOT to go."

"And these thigh-high boots … Oh, my God.  The whole outfit just screams 'Intergalactic Hooker,'" Stacy added.  "This, is, out, rageous.  It's gone.  Step out."

Mystique stumbled out of the mirror box and went to stand next to Wayne and Stacy.  She watched in horror as they clucked and gagged, insulted her taste, pulled almost every item off the clothes rack, and threw it in the trash can.  All of her shoes went, too --- including her prized collection of 4 inch heels.

"Clean slate, my dear!" Stacy said.

Mystique was furious.

~X~

She faced the camera that evening with a hellcat sneer.  In accordance with the show, she'd been given a video camera to make her own video diary of her feelings surrounding the day's events.

"Those MORONS!" she raged.  "I am never going to forgive the Brotherhood for this!  As soon as this nightmare is over, I will fling them out into the street!  They mess up my HOUSE, they send me to these inarticulate HUMANS … I've lost my CLOTHES, my DIGNITY, indeed, my sense of self!  And that is pretty tenuous to begin with, considering I can be anyone!"

She paused for a bit, frowning.  

"But on the plus side," she said, raising her eyebrows, "at least I get to go shopping tomorrow.  The last time I was in a department store during business hours, I believe Reagan was in office."

She curled her legs up to her chest and sat there, caught somewhere between forlorn and excited, and finally shot a nasty glance at the camera.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that!"

CLICK

~X~

"Okay, girlfriend, here are the ground rules!  You have to follow them when we give you the credit card and you go shopping with the five thou," Wayne said, ushering Mystique over to a few mannequins.  Instead of the usual white plaster dummies, these had been painted blue.  

Mystique rolled her eyes.  "If you insist."

"Good.  Rule number one.  No layers.  You see this lovely sea-green dress we've got on this one?  See how it just wraps delicately and then flares out in this nice A-line?  That's what you want.  No chunky pleats at the waist, no bunchy elastic, NADA.  Got it?"

"I understand," she groused.  Admittedly, that was sensible.

"Rule number two!  Sensible shoes!" Stacy added.  "We pulled some ridiculous stuff out of your closet, honey.  Heels that are way too high to be functional, flats that don't work, you name it, we found it.  So I want to suggest two types of shoes: a nice wedge heel," she held up an elegant black shoe, "and a boot."  She held up a chunky, sleek boot with a slight heel, that went up to the knee.  "Now what's good about this boot is that you can wear it under jeans.  By the way, always choose boot cut, hip-high. Or you can wear these with a skirt of any length, and it still makes you look decent.  It's the perfect length --- high without being too high, and it doesn't cut your lower leg in half and make it look fat.  But you can go with an ankle-length boot, too."

"All right," Mystique muttered.  That advice actually seemed okay.

"Rule number three!  Color palette!" Wayne said, hurrying over to the last mannequin.  "You need to select colors that work with your skin tone.  I suggest black, white, and most anything dark," he said, ticking off on his fingers.  "With the exception of yellow, most light colors are big no-no.  Drab stuff like 'mojave desert' wear?  No.  STAY AWAY.  Do NOT go with cream.  It totally clashes."

"Fine."

"Okay, off you go!"

So Mystique, in her usual guise as Raven Darkholme, strode into a few downtown department stores and burned through the five thou in two days.  For once in her life, the mistress of mayhem actually followed somebody else's rules.  She found a lot of nice skirts, both short and long, plenty of t-shirts, jeans, blouses, a few nicely tailored business suits, three lovely evening dresses, lots of "sensible" shoes, some jewelry, some lingerie (Stacy helped her with this off-camera), and The Dress.  The Dress, that, while a bit risqué, was bound to get Magneto to take her more seriously.  It was positively … dangerous.  A black halter top showed off her shoulders and was paired with a rather reckless black loin-cloth style skirt.  It fell to about mid-thigh.  A black strap wound around her left arm, and the ankle-length boots, with slight heels, made her legs look voluptuous and sexy.  

She "went blue" under the dress and stared at herself in the dressing room mirror.  And stared.  And stared.

And grinned.

For reality TV, this was turning out okay.

To Be Continued!


End file.
